


Hustler

by hellcsweetie



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, PWP, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:14:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25641160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellcsweetie/pseuds/hellcsweetie
Summary: Donna watches a movie and gets some inspiration.
Relationships: Donna Paulsen/Harvey Specter
Comments: 8
Kudos: 39





	Hustler

“Do you think I’d make a good stripper?” comes Donna’s voice from beside him on the couch. 

It’s such a surreal question it takes him a moment to register. Then it does. His jaw drops and he frowns, eyes widening as his brain goes on overdrive trying to decipher whether she’s actually asking or if it’s a quote or a joke. 

“What?” he finally looks at her, but whatever confusion he’s feeling doesn’t register on her face as she continues to watch the movie. 

“You heard me,” is her only response. 

“Where the hell is this coming from?” he asks and half-laughs in astonishment. 

Donna shrugs. “The movie got me thinking.”

“For real?”

“ _Yes_. So tell me.”

Harvey looks back at the screen in front of him, noticing the ostentatious furs, the bedazzled G-strings and the large hoops. It's a context in which he just cannot place Donna and her impeccable posture, suede stilettos and Valentino dresses.

"Are you sure this isn't a trick question? It feels like you'll just get upset no matter what I answer," he tries weakly one last time.

Donna chuckles silently and rolls her eyes. "Fine, whatever."

"Well, you're certainly _hot_ enough to be a stripper," he begins, squeezing her thigh playfully, "It just... doesn't look very much like your style."

"So I wouldn't make a good stripper because I dress too nicely?" she confirms, but he knows she's just pulling his leg.

"Let's just say you'd make a great stripper, you just wouldn't fit into this particular group very well," he points vaguely towards the TV.

Donna laughs in earnest by his side. "That feels strangely reassuring," she answers and leans into him a little. They continue watching the movie in silence and Harvey more or less forgets about the conversation.

.

Until one day he gets home after a meeting and the living room is half-lit, one of the armchairs pushed towards the wall and the other one placed at the center of the room.

"Donna?" he calls out, leaving his briefcase on the little table in the hall and hanging his coat.

His wife appears in the threshold, wearing one of his shirts and a smirk, her skin made golden by the light. Heat rushes down his spine but he refuses to let it show, because he doesn't understand how he could possibly still get this affected by just the sight of her.

"Oh, hey," she feigns casualness.

"Hi," he follows her lead, "I see you did some redecorating."

"That spacial configuration wasn’t working for me," she makes her way to him, stopping by the kitchen island to pick up a glass with whisky. "Take a seat and enjoy your drink, I’ll be right there."

Harvey frowns, equal parts in amusement and suspicion. Donna is perfect in every way, but she is far from the doting wife, which Harvey loves. He doesn't remember one single time he came home to this kind of treatment, and today was as regular a day as any.

He decides not to argue, having learned that is usually the best course of action when it comes to Donna. He sits on the chair and waits, drumming his fingers against the armrest to soothe his nerves as he takes a sip of his drink. He can hear her puttering behind him, but he doesn't turn.

He has no idea what to expect and that thrills him and scares him in equal measures. Donna doesn’t often do surprises, but she has a flair for the dramatic and the skillset to enable it and Harvey’s just a tiny little bit nervous about how far she might be willing to take this. He just hopes there aren’t any _actual_ strippers involved; he’s too old for that.

Suddenly a heavy bass and a smooth voice come on and he hears Donna coming towards him. He takes a final sip of his drink as she reaches him, taking his free hand. She tugs and he follows willingly, looking down at her freckles and the peek of her lacy bra he catches behind his shirt. 

Donna takes his glass and sets it on the table behind her, and the space between them hums with anticipation. 

“Hey,” she says again, softer this time. He smiles tenderly at her, at her beautiful face and the inches that separate them when she’s barefoot. 

“Hey,” he smirks, hands snaking around her waist and bringing her in. They kiss, light, slow, a greeting after a day of work. It’s domestic and not exactly in line with her suggested activities but he loves it nonetheless, loves that they have been together long enough to even have domesticity.

Without breaking the kiss, Donna rids him of his jacket and gently pushes him back down onto the chair. 

“Now relax and enjoy,” she half purrs, tone sultry and a mischievous glint in her eyes that means the best kind of trouble. She’s towering over him, leaning onto the armrests, and he likes the shadow she casts around them. 

She straightens up and her fingers reach for his tie, undoing it. He slides his palms up the sides of her thighs and she stops. 

“Uh-uh, no touching,” she warns, looking pointedly at his left hand. He huffs amusedly and settles back while she parts with the tie and the first few buttons on his shirt. 

“Should I have brought singles?” he quips with a smirk and her smile broadens, humored.

“Don’t worry, I have access to your bank account,” she fires back and he snickers while her hands run down his chest. 

Donna steps closer and straddles his lap, keeping some distance between them. Her left hand holds his shoulder back, keeping him in place, as her right hand plays with her hair. She leans forward again and kisses him innocently enough. But then she catches his bottom lip between her teeth and tugs until it slips from her grasp. 

He realizes then and there that, though there may be no poles or flashing lights, Donna is not joking about this.

The strangled little sound that escapes him should be embarrassing, but Donna is very well aware of what she does to him and he doesn’t bother hiding it anymore. 

She finishes unbuttoning his shirt and runs her nails down his abs and around his middle. He can feel the goosebumps forming, his pulse racing. 

Suddenly, too soon, she’s up and away from him, rounding the chair. He follows her with his gaze, not wanting to miss a second of this. 

She sets her hands on his shoulders and presses down, running them down his chest once again. From the way she’s leaning down onto him, he can tell her hips must be high in the air and he wishes he were behind her. Then she sucks on his earlobe and he forgets all about it. 

He tips his head, giving her better access as she licks and nibbles his skin. He’s usually the one monopolizing this part because he just loves the taste of her so much, but whenever she pushes back it’s just as amazing. 

She catches his lips again, carelessly, messily. He’s already warm all over, feels his insides tingling even though she’s barely started. 

Donna walks back to his front and, with hands on his knees, spreads his legs and stands between them. 

“I considered stripping but I figured you’d want a part in this,” she explains coquettishly, glancing down at the buttons on her (his) shirt. He complies eagerly, sliding his hands once again up her sides and reaching for the buttons. One, two, three and his shirt is open, revealing rich lace underneath. Her bra has no cup, just a layer of deep green over her breasts, and her panties follow the tone and the pattern of the lace. 

He licks his lips and is ready to touch her all over when her hands grab his wrists and, with a triumphant smirk, set them back down onto the chair. “I said no touching.”

He rolls his eyes at her antics but a thrill runs down his spine at her commanding tone. They don’t play much in bed apart from the occasional whipped cream, the novelty of _them_ still interesting enough to render extras unnecessary. But Donna in charge, extras or not, is just plain damn hot.

She fixes him with a deep, piercing stare and bites her bottom lip as she parts the shirt, jutting out her breasts. The lace is intricate, does a good job of covering them, but he can still see her nipples peaking through the material. She lifts her chin, her neck a tall column of cream, as her arms meet behind her and she pulls the garment down by the sleeves.

Once it hangs limply from her fingers, she turns around and walks over to the other chair. Harvey lets his eyes rake down her figure, his breath hitching once he notices her panties ride leaner down her ass than usual. He doesn’t know if it’s a g-string or what but it’s definitely more risqué than she usually wears. His cock twitches in his pants. 

She leans onto the chair and drapes the shirt over it, once again jutting out her hips. He groans at the sight, imagining her pressed up against him just like that. 

She looks over her shoulder and smiles suggestively, well aware of what she’s doing. 

Suddenly she’s back in front of him and this time she kneels between his legs. Her hands run up and down his thighs breezily, as if she weren’t a total tease. Her eyes are on his the whole time as her fingers skim up his leg and over his crotch. He gasps - audibly - as her fingers brush against his erection. 

She reaches for the button on his pants and undoes it and the zipper, parting the material and teasing him through his boxers. His hips buckle almost against his will, seeking out the pressure of her hands. She chuckles at his eagerness, no doubt feeling extra confident. She lowers her head and presses a trail of light kisses down his abs towards his groin, stopping right above the band of his underwear. 

“Are you trying to kill me?” he accuses but it’s made weaker by the gruff in his voice. 

“You don’t know the half of it,” she winks at him and licks her way back up his torso. Their mouths meet and the kiss is hungry, hurried and wet from the way their haste has made them both explore each other well beyond the confines of lips. 

Donna stands back up and takes both his hands, setting them on her breasts and kneading them. He loves that the bra is malleable, no cups to constrain his movements. He follows her lead, going where her hands take his. He watches her palms make his massage her breasts, feels the lace rubbing against their skin. 

She slides their hands upwards, onto her shoulders, and her palms leave his. Delicately, he slips the straps down her arms, watching as her breasts fall more heavily once free from their confines. She pinches the bra open and lets him peel it off her, discarding it on the floor. 

Her skin is flushed from the heat and the kneading and the lace, nipples two perky little buds he can’t wait to close his lips around. She must understand his intent, because she presses his hands back down onto the chair and goes back to cupping her breasts by herself. 

She wets her middle finger and her thumb between her lips and pinches a nipple, letting out a breathy moan. His own breath rushes from his lungs and he can feel his cock painfully hard against his boxers. He gives it a squeeze to calm down and she smirks. 

“Everything alright there?” she teases, leaning forward again. His eyes are transfixed by her breasts hanging between them. “Not for long,” he croaks out and she grins. 

Donna steps back again and motions his legs shut. He’s disappointed for a second when she turns around and slides onto his lap, straddling him again with her back to him. She glances over her shoulder, eyes dark and bright, half-covered by the lids. Her lips are parted and swollen, red from his ministrations. Her ass is inches shy from his crotch and he wants to bring her closer but resists the urge, gripping the armrests tightly. 

Donna braces on his knees and slides her hips back and into his groin. It’s the first contact, the first real pressure on his dick and he grunts. 

Keeping time with the music, Donna slowly, _slowly_ starts grinding against him. She’s leaning forward and he can ser her ass undulating back and forth, her milky skin a stark contrast against the dark material of the pants she’s ruining.

He could moan from her every move, his need for friction urgent and loud, but he thinks that would be just a tad too pathetic, so he swallows it down. 

She keeps rubbing against him in a torturous rhythm. He doesn’t know if she picked this song on purpose or if it was just a coincidence but the tempo is just enough to create heat without picking up, and she’s doing exactly the same, never speeding. A spark of recognition ignites in his brain and he remembers a flash of the scene of the movie they watched, where the rapper lady taught the Asian chick how to give a lap dance. The girl told her to keep slow. Donna sure paid attention. 

She flips her hair and looks over her shoulder again. 

“Donna,” he warns with gritted teeth, “I need to touch you.”

“Okay,” she breathes out and nods and his hands fly to her ass, kneading the cheeks. She moans a little and he catches it with his lips, leaning forward until her back is pressing against his chest. They kiss like that and he lets his palms press down on her thighs, back to her ass, up her stomach and over her breasts. 

He cups them, weighs them in his palms, rubs her nipples. She gasps at him and her movements become more purposed, her hips digging into his groin, rubbing tightly against the length of his cock. 

He is absolutely sure he could come from this alone, would be only slightly abashed by it even though he hasn’t come from dry humping in many, many years.

He’s rolling her right nipple and sucking on her neck and she lets out a tiny whimper. He draws back an inch and looks down at their mess, his crumpled shirt, their sweaty skin sliding against each other, and her ass riding him through their clothes. It‘s hot, very hot, and he thanks the stars and the heavens that she’s not an actual stripper because that means he won’t have to spend thousands of dollars every month to have her again and again. 

“Fuck, Donna,” he breathes out and her response is just a choked-out huff of laughter. She’s affected too, he realizes. 

His hand snakes down her torso and brushes lightly against her center, over her panties, and her hips buck instantly. 

He doesn’t waste time, rubbing her folds, smearing her juices across the lace, following the rhythm she’s set and is still maintaining. 

She turns her head further towards his and he gets her signal, surging forward to kiss her again. They’re rubbing and touching and breathing heavily and this is not raunchy enough to resemble an actual strip club but definitely not what they usually do and he’s tripping. It’s hot and messy and oh, God, he loves her. 

His fingers press down on her clit in tight little circles and she cries out, loud. He’s fully gone now, unable to match her tempo as he rubs her faster. Her hips falter and she’s moaning at his ministrations. Their angles and his briefs are not gonna let him come after all, not like this, but he still wants to get her off before they move to the bed. 

He bites down on her pulse point, thrusting against her hips the next time she pushes back. His fingers slip beneath the fabric and slide between her folds, against her slit, over her clit. A few strokes and she’s crying out, eyes shut tight and hips stuttering as her orgasm explodes. He feels her moisture coming in waves, coating his fingers, as he kisses her shoulder sloppily. 

Once her breathing has slowed down and she’s back from her haze, he whispers against her ear, “Let’s move this to the bedroom.”

She nods and slides off of him, and squeals when he picks her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. 

“We can drop the stripper thing now, right?” he mumbles as they clumsily make their way to the bedroom. He enjoyed the show but he’s about to have a severe case of blue balls if they don’t act fast, and he’s had enough of the teasing.

“Yeah,” she breathes out and nods between kisses.

Afterwards he’ll be willing to admit that, yeah, the movie Hustlers did end up earning a special little place in his heart after all.


End file.
